


Sweetheart Come to Me

by rabidchild67



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Hey Sweetheart Challenge, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Endearments are illogical. Until they aren’t. Spock learns a lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetheart Come to Me

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the Kirk/Spock "Hey Sweetheart" challenge for Valentine’s. Title is a lyric from the song “Sweetheart Come” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
> 
> Warning: This story was clearly written as I was embracing my inner 12-yr old.

“I think you’re wrong – I think Penllyn is the better candidate,” Jim said around a mouthful of hot fudge sundae with chocolate ice cream.

“His economic policies are too conservative,” McCoy replied, eyeing the frozen treat with distaste. “Anyway, I still like Abernathy – her stance on reviewing member planets’ beings’ rights policies is 100% what’s needed.”

Spock laid his lunch tray onto the table across from McCoy and took a seat beside Jim. “If you are debating the relative merits of the Federation presidential candidates’ race, it will be a waste of time, gentlemen. The results are already in. Trwln secured re-election quite definitively.”

“Dang it!” McCoy exclaimed, clenching a fist. “There goes the hope of any kind of progressive leadership in the Federation.”

“Bones, did you just punch the air in a classic ‘aw shucks’ maneuver?” Jim asked, amused.

“I did no such thing.”

“No, you totally did – what are you, in some old timey ‘Three Stooges’ short or something?”

“Some what?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the Stooges, Bones – it’s classic 20th Century comedy, right up your alley.”

“And why would something filmed nearly 300 years before I was even born be relevant to my life?” McCoy asked archly.

“Because it’s hilarious, slapsticky humor? Involving pratfalls and nyuk-nyuks?”

“And eye-poking and traumatic brain injuries involving the improper carrying of ladders? No thanks.”

“So you _have_ heard of them.”

“Even I have heard of the Three Stooges. They are taught in Vulcan schools,” Spock supplied, “as an object lesson in human illogic.” 

Both Jim and McCoy looked at him as if he’d sprouted an extra head.

“Is that xenophobic? I think that’s xenophobic,” McCoy observed dryly. 

Spock allowed a twinkle to come to his eye to indicate that he was, in fact, making an attempt at humor.

_“Engineering to Captain Kirk.”_

Jim grinned as he reached for his comm and flipped it open. “Mister Scott, to what do I owe the very great pleasure?” he said with a laugh still in his voice.

“We’re ready to test the upgrade of the plasma injectors, sir. I know you were interested in seeing them come online.”

Jim was immediately all business. “Of course – I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Flipping the comm closed and pocketing it, he rose and gathered his tray. “No rest for the weary,” he said, though Spock knew for a fact he’d rested a full eight hours the night before, and he looked quite eager to assist Mister Scott with the engineering upgrade.

Spock laid his spoon beside his bowl. “I should be present for these upgrades as well,” he said, and made to rise. 

“No, that’s fine, I’ve got it. Besides, I know you didn’t make it to breakfast this morning, sweetheart.” He reached out and touched the first two fingers of his right hand against the backs of the same two on Spock’s left. “I’ll see you later?” 

Spock nodded and Jim went on his way. Spock picked up his spoon and was about to begin eating when he realized that McCoy was staring at him. “Yes, Doctor, did you have something you wished to communicate? You appear quite eager.”

“Well, I dunno, _sweetheart_ , it’s hard to know where to start.”

Spock laid his spoon down again and regarded McCoy soberly.

“You think you two will want to join us for poker later, or do you have other plans, _baby-cakes_? Or maybe you’ll be carving each other’s initials into a tree in the arboretum, _Jim + Spock 4-EVR_?”

A raised eyebrow did nothing to stop him.

“I really didn't know you two were quite so serious, Spock. I find it fascinating to observe, purely from a scientific perspective.” He fanned his hands out in front of him in a gesture Jim had once described to Spock as “jazz hands.” “ _Mating Rituals of the Modern Vulcan._ I like the sound of that – I’ll be writing the abstract for my research paper as soon as I get back to my office.” By now, the doctor’s words were barely intelligible, he was laughing so hard. 

“Are you quite through?”

McCoy wiped a tear from his eye. “Are you kidding? I’m just getting warmed up.”

Spock stood, a stony expression on his face. “Then I will be on my way as I have nothing to add to this pointless conversation.”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that, Spock. I’m sorry,” McCoy said, reaching out and capturing Spock’s wrist. “Have a seat, come on – you should eat.”

He looked contrite enough, and so Spock sat down. They ate their meal in a more amiable manner, discussing operational needs in the medical division as well as future staffing plans. When they were done, Spock stood to bus his tray.

“So _will_ I see you two at poker later tonight?” McCoy asked, standing himself.

“As it is a standing engagement, and neither of us appears to have more urgent duties that may preclude it, you may be assured of our attendance this evening.”

“Good, good. I never want to miss out on an opportunity to win credits off you, _sugartits_ ,” he said with a grin before he walked away.

\----

Later that day, Spock sat alone in his lab, reviewing his staff’s research reports when Jim walked in. “There you are, I was wondering where you’d gone off to after our shift.” He leaned against Spock’s desk, facing him.

“There are reports I have been remiss in attending to since our last mission concluded, so I thought I would take advantage of our relative inactivity whilst en route to Starbase 4 to pick up the trade delegation for the talks on Gennault.”

Jim rolled his eyes – diplomatic missions always seemed to pain him, though it was Spock’s opinion that he excelled at diplomacy. “Anything interesting?”

“Only if you find the latest readings from stellar cartography elucidating,” Spock replied, looking up at Jim with a raised eyebrow, “which I know you do not.”

“You got that right. You gonna be done soon? I’m starving to death.”

Spock gave Jim’s posterior a long look. “I beg to differ,” he said, a quirk to his lips.

“Hey! Anyway, you like me on the chunky side – the deeper the cushion the sweeter the pushin’, am I right or am I right?”

“A wholly distasteful analogy,” Spock said, frowning. “Though I admit to a preference for a larger presence in my bed.”

“Is that what you call it?” Jim grinned and bent over, placing a light kiss on Spock’s lips. When he pulled away, he let his hand linger along Spock’s jawline, sending a shiver through Spock. “Chubby chaser.” He stood back. “I guess I’ll go look at staff reviews for a while until you’re ready then. Comm me before you head to dinner?”

“I will.”

Jim smiled happily. “See you then, baby.”

Spock flinched involuntarily at the name.

Jim noticed.“Something wrong?” 

Spock opened his mouth to speak, but paused, searching for the proper words. “Jim, I would address your use of endearments in regards to my person. I find them to be wholly illogical.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The use of so-called pet names – I can see no discernible value in their adoption. It is my belief the use of such derivative terms serve only to diminish meaningful conversation between two people. I ask that you desist using them as much as you are able.”

Jim’s face was suddenly very carefully neutral, though his voice rose slightly in pitch. “I don’t mean to offend you, Spock.”

“I am not offended, merely put off, as humans might say.”

“So you mean, you don’t want me to call you baby or sweetheart anymore?”

“Affirmative.”

“Or Spockums?”

“You have never called me Spockums.”

Jim looked away from Spock briefly, his lips moving against each other, but he did not speak for many seconds. “Sure, no problem,” he finally said, his voice flat and affectless.

“I thank you. I believe you, too, will find this an improvement in our interpersonal communications.”

“Whatever you say.” He turned to go, but then paused in the doorway. “Listen, Spock, no need to hurry with finishing up here if you’re too busy, OK? I’ll just grab a sandwich in the canteen.”

“You are certain?”

“Yeah – I mean, you look really engrossed or something.”

“An astute observation – I will be able to complete the task at hand more efficiently if I continue on through the evening.”

“I’ll see you later then.” 

\----

Spock begged off McCoy’s poker game in favor of completing his work, which took him until well past midnight. When he got back to Jim’s cabin, he found that his lover had already gone to bed and was sleeping soundly, so he changed into his sleeping clothes and climbed into bed beside Jim.

In the morning, Spock awoke to find Jim lying half atop him, as per usual, his head pillowed on Spock’s shoulder. Jim awoke himself seconds later, turning his head to look up at Spock with a warm and sleepy smile. “Good morning, Jim,” Spock said fondly, raising his head to meet Jim’s lips in their usual morning kiss.

Jim smiled up at him when their lips parted. “Good morning, Mr. Spock,” he said, his voice scratchy from disuse.

Spock raised an eyebrow, but Jim was already rising and on his way to use the bathroom.

\----

Later that evening, Spock and Jim were working together quietly at Jim’s desk when Spock looked up. “Jim, I have completed my review of staff assignments for the coming month and took the liberty of making annotations where appropriate. I have sent them to your terminal.”

“Thank you, Spock,” Jim said with a smile and went back to reviewing Uhura’s draft of the mission briefing for the upcoming trade conference on Gennault.

“It is quite late, will you be very much longer?” Spock asked, extending his left leg so that the toe of his sock-clad foot ran up the inside of Jim’s bare ankle.

Jim’s eyes met his, pupils growing large with desire. “I imagine I can be persuaded otherwise,” he said, switching his terminal off.

It was when Jim called him “Commander” as he climaxed some time later that Spock realized he may have made a tactical error.

\----

“You’ve reviewed the mission briefing Uhura prepared?” Jim said as he and Spock left the bridge on their way to Transporter Room 2. They had just begun their orbit around Gennault, and were due to accompany the Federation trade delegation to the planet for an evening reception.

“Affirmative.”

“Good, I don’t want to be the only one tracking what’s going on in these trade negotiations. I know our own delegates are all supposed to have the Federation’s interests in mind, but you never know when they might decide to go off-book. Don’t want a repeat of the Ferengi Incident.”

Spock nodded, remembering – it had been an intergalactic scandal when it was discovered that an Andorian trade delegation was taking kickbacks from the Ferengi with whom they were supposed to have been negotiating.

“God, I hate these things,” Jim sighed, not for the first time. He stopped outside the Transporter Room and slumped with his back against the nearest wall, fiddling with the collar of his dress uniform. Spock could see the tension in his back and shoulders and longed to ease his discomfort, though he wasn’t sure how – they’d been preparing for this assignment for weeks, the Federation trade delegates they’d picked up on Starbase 4 three days ago were very demanding, and Jim and Lieutenant Uhura had been pulling double shifts for nearly two weeks in preparation. 

Spock reached over and pressed a hand to the back of Jim’s neck, his thumb brushing the small hairs there, but Jim pulled away. “Hey now, I don’t think public displays of affection are very logical, do you?” he asked. 

“There is no one in this corridor.”

Jim’s eyes met his, and there was a quality in them Spock did not like to see – they were clouded, wounded, though his tone was light as he said, “You never know who may happen by, Commander. I am only thinking of your Vulcan sense of propriety after all – wouldn’t want to be accused of adopting a practice that holds no discernible value.”

Spock held back a sigh; Jim’s reaction to his request to refrain from the use of pet names had progressed from light and pointed references to him as ‘Commander’ while in bed to something more – something bitter – over the last four days. He knew there must be another conversation about this, yet at the same time he refused to give in, to allow Jim to manipulate him into giving in. He resolved to discuss it with Jim soon – after they returned to the ship from Gennault that evening.

Nyota stepped out of the Transporter Room and fixed them both with a baleful eye. “There you two are – if you don’t get in here now, we’ll be late, and I for one will not be the one to explain it to Ambassador Kreitz.”

Jim sighed and trudged towards her, looking as if he were being led to his doom and Spock did not think he could be faulted for this – trade negotiations were exceedingly tiresome.

\----

The trade talks would last for the next week, and were kicking off that evening with a welcome reception in the resort where the meetings would be held. The weather was pleasant and warm, the scenery pleasing, and the food and drink plentiful and delicious. 

Spock stood on an expansive patio at the edge of a beautiful formal garden, sipping at a fruit juice. He had taken a moment to get away from the press of delegates inside, and to inspect some of the local night-blooming flora that was arranged in decorative pots. He glanced back at the hotel and considered whether Jim would enjoy it if he booked a room here – they had earlier decided it was more logical to remain quartered on board the Enterprise for the duration – but the setting was beautiful, the resort’s amenities plentiful, and Spock wondered if it would lessen Jim’s general stress level. 

“There you are – however did you manage to escape from Ambassador Kreitz? I swear the man must have six hands the way he grabs ass!”

Spock turned at Nyota’s approach and gave a slight smile in commiseration. “Apparently the Ambassador shows no preference in the gender of those he gropes – shall we choose to find that refreshing?”

“Can’t you choose to administer a Vulcan nerve pinch?” she asked, but she was smiling so he knew she was not serious. “It’s really beautiful here,” she said, picking a flower and sniffing it. “I wonder if we’ll have any chance to relax at all.”

“I believe you are the better judge of that – the schedule you have set is most challenging.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know that had more to do with the organizers than me – please don’t shoot the messenger.”

“That would be most illogical,” he said. “Think of the paperwork involved in acquiring a new one.”

“Ha-ha, Commander, keep it up.” She turned and leaned against the low wall they stood beside. “So how come you’re not inside with the Captain – aren’t you two usually joined at the hip?”

“He is… displeased with me at the moment.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I’m sorry to hear that. Hope it’s not serious.”

He shook his head. “A minor misunderstanding I will soon need to address.” _And apologize for,_ he thought, recalling the hurt in Jim’s eyes from earlier in the evening. He realized he regretted the request that had clearly hurt Jim, as well as his own stubbornness in allowing the hurt to persist. 

Suddenly, he became aware of a deep rumbling sound, and then the ground began to shudder and shake beneath their feet. Having grown up on Vulcan, Spock was well aware of the sensations involved when an earthquake was occurring, but he knew that others would not be so well-prepared. He turned to Nyota and took her by the arm to steady her. Behind them, inside the hotel, crashes and screams could be heard as guest scrambled to escape the building. The shaking lasted less than fifteen seconds.

“Are you well?” Spock asked Nyota a moment later, releasing her arm.

“I’m fine. There was no mention of seismic activity being a factor in this region of Gennault,” she said urgently as her eyes scanned the area; some of the people emerging from the hotel were cut and bleeding, and there was glass everywhere from the windows that had broken during the quake.

“Indeed, I was under the impression–“ Spock began to reply, but a second tremor interrupted him, much more violent and longer in duration than the last. A louder rumbling could be heard behind them as the hotel began to shake on its foundations. Spock led Nyota away from the patio and into the garden proper, even as the ground shook and pitched beneath them. She stumbled and fell, pulling Spock down with her. He lay with his body half covering hers protectively.

“Oh my god,” she said when the shaking had ceased. Spock moved back, allowing her space, pulling her to a seated position. “Oh my god,” she repeated, clearly in some state of shock. “Oh my god.”

“Nyota!” Spock said urgently, clasping her upper arms and shaking her, but her eyes were not on him, they were on the hotel behind him. Spock turned his head to see that much of the façade of the building had fallen away, exposing the floors of the hotel within, some of which had collapsed onto the floors below. Clouds of dust were still billowing out of it as people stumbled away from the wreckage. 

“The Captain – he’s still inside, Spock!” 

\----

“Jim!” Spock called out, not for the first time. He picked his way through the wreckage that had once been the grand ballroom of the Gennault Imperial Hotel, moving as quickly as he could. Jim was somewhere in here, he knew this with certainty, and he also knew that he would find him. The only beings he had happened upon so far had been dead, crushed by falling debris. Fortunately, there had been no aftershocks, but the knowledge that they were likely spurred Spock’s haste. 

A low moan to his left got his attention and Spock looked over. Jim was lying on his back, his body covered by debris from the chest down. Spock rushed over. “Jim!”

Jim’s eyes fluttered at the sound of Spock’s voice, but he did not open them. Spock surveyed the material covering him and deduced removing it would not endanger Jim’s safety. Thirty seconds later, he was on his knees beside his captain.

“Jim!” Spock repeated urgently, his hand hovering above his lover’s face, which was covered with blood that still flowed from a head wound. 

Jim’s eyelids fluttered again and finally opened. “Spock,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “What… what happened?”

“There was an earthquake, and you have been injured.”

“My head is killing me.”

“Yes,” Spock reached for his communicator. “Do not attempt to move. I will call for help. “ Jim sighed and Spock looked down – he had passed out again. “Jim? Jim!“ 

Spock stroked the side of Jim’s face but it did not rouse him. He slid his fingers to the side of Jim’s neck, trying to feel for a pulse, and got none. “Please, Jim,” Spock murmured, moving his fingers to the other side. He could discern nothing, no movement or sign of life, and his touch telepathy was useless on an unconscious person. He pressed his fingers in harder and felt nothing. 

“No,” he said bowing his head, “no, this is not how this happens, it is not. Jim, please. _Ashayam_ , my dearheart, do not leave me, come back to me, _please_.”

“Mmmm,” Jim moaned suddenly, and Spock looked up with hope in his eyes.

“Jim?”

“Spock? Are you _crying_?”

“It is very dusty in here.” 

“Did you just call me ‘dearheart’?”

“I –“

“I thought endearments were illogical.”

“I have since reassessed my opinion on the matter.”

“Good, cuz it was bumming me out.” Jim’s smile, though pained, made Spock’s heart swell in his side.

“I will contact the ship and have you beamed to the medbay directly,” Spock told him, flipping open his comm.

While they waited for the transporter to lock on, Spock tried to staunch the flow of blood from Jim’s head wound with the sleeve of his uniform.

“Hey Spock,” Jim said, blinking up at him. “Does this mean I get to call you Spockums now?”

“Jim, you may never, as long as we live, call me Spockums.”

“Kiss me, Spockums.”

\----

Thank you for your time.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on Tumblr @rabidchild67, I hope you'll consider following me there.


End file.
